


Bad Day

by MoonlightBreeze



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood Feels, Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood Needs A Hug, Alec Lightwood-centric, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Alec Lightwood, Bad Parent Maryse Lightwood, Bad Parent Robert Lightwood, Caring Magnus Bane, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Magnus Bane Loves Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Fluff, Post-Canon, Stimming, Tags Are Hard, Understanding Magnus Bane, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, basically Alec uses pain as a stim, internalized ableism, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24677746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightBreeze/pseuds/MoonlightBreeze
Summary: When Alec has a meltdown, Magnus is there to remind him that he's not alone and he doesn't need to be afraid to stim in his own home.Warning for implied/referenced self-harm. Basically, Alec uses pain as a stim because he was taught his whole life to repress his stims. If this could trigger you, please keep yourself safe and steer clear! <3
Relationships: Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 40
Kudos: 357
Collections: Autistic Alec Lightwood, Fluff vs. Angst Battle 2020





	Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I know, I know, I'm on a productivity binge. This is my third fic tonight. To be fair, this one and the last one I posted were ones I already had written and just needed to edit and post. Anyways, this fic is something I wrestled with myself about posting for a while now. I'm not even sure why I'm so scared to post it, but regardless, here I am! 
> 
> I want to give a big thank-you to [my friend Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternallySilverMagnusandAlec/pseuds/EternallySilverMagnusandAlec), whose wonderful fic gave me the courage to post this. I'd definitely recommend stopping by their profile, they're amazing!
> 
> Before we begin, I wanted to say this, in case you didn't read the tags: This fic headcanons Alec as autistic. He stims and has a meltdown. This is not a "typical" bad day fic. The implied/referenced self harm tag is because he uses pain as a stim, due to years of being forced to repress his stims because of his parents. Please don't take this fic as a catch-all for what being autistic is like; I based it pretty much entirely off of my experiences as an autistic person, and everyone has different experiences. Meltdowns and stims look different for every autistic person. 
> 
> With that being said, let's get on to the fic! I really hope you like this! Kudos make my day and comments validate my existence, so please feel free to leave those, if you want :) And as always, I hope you have a wonderful day/night!
> 
> ~ Em

Magnus’s wards parting to accept Alec into the loft helped to calm his frayed nerves a little bit, but it wasn’t enough. Alec’s shoulders felt heavy, and his back was rigid with tension. Hanging up his jacket on the coat rack in the foyer felt like the most herculean of tasks. He was filled with nervous energy, bubbling under his skin and threatening to rise up and tip everything out of his control. Alec forced his hands together without thought and began to rub, his nails digging into the skin. The pain helped ground him, helped him focus on anything other than the dull roar in his mind and body. 

Magnus waltzed in from his apothecary, carrying a cup of tea in one hand and an old, leather-bound book in the other. “Hello, darling,” he greeted Alec. “I was just finishing up a potion for a client. Would you care to join me?”

Ordinarily, Alec would never pass up an opportunity to watch his husband at work. The way that Magnus and his magic worked together so seamlessly, adding ingredients and completing any number of complicated steps in a way that was almost effortless, would never cease to amaze Alec. But on that particular day, the idea of Magnus’s apothecary, overrun with dozens of different smells and the grating noises of spoons clinking on metal and even Magnus’s humming, which Alec usually found comforting, sounded nothing short of torturous. 

“No, thank you,” Alec said quietly.

Magnus’s eyebrows arched into his hairline at Alec’s response. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Alec closed his eyes for a minute and said, “Please don’t.” He knew his voice sounded strained, stretched thin, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. 

“Don’t what, my love?”

“Please don’t ask me two questions at a time like that,” Alec replied. He bit his lip, looking everywhere but at Magnus. “It’s - It’s confusing right now.”

Magnus’s eyes softened and understanding slid onto his face. “Oh. I’m sorry, Alexander.” He set the cup of tea and the book on one of the marble counters in the kitchen and turned to face Alec once again. “It’s a bad day, I take it?”

Alec sighed and nodded. 

“What colour are you right now, Alexander?”

At the start of their relationship, after a few mishaps on both of their behalfs, Magnus and Alec had devised a colour system for Alec to use to tell Magnus if he was okay with physical touch. Red meant that he didn’t want to be touched at all, yellow meant that he was okay with small touches and nothing too overwhelming, and green meant that he was fine with any manner of physical touch, barring something like sex. 

“Red,” Alec mumbled, and then added, “Sorry,” because he knew his husband well enough to know that he liked to show affection through actions rather than words. Neither of them were anything near poets, and Magnus’s biggest acts of love came from deeds set into motion seconds before they were carried out. 

That was, after all, how he’d proposed.

“Don’t apologise for something like that, Alexander,” Magnus said, snapping Alec back into the present. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Alec nodded and dropped his head in a sign of acquiescence. Magnus’s expression was one of sympathy, and his eyes held all of the warmth and kindness Alec had missed all day. 

“I have to finish up this potion, but I’ll be out in five minutes,” Magnus said. “Do you need anything right now?”

Alec shook his head, and Magnus’s brow furrowed in concern. If Alec was beginning to become nonverbal already, it must have truly been an awful day, more awful than the younger man was saying. He sent a small plume of magic into Alec, a pleasant graze of light blue that he knew Alec wouldn’t feel, to check for any underlying injuries. Finding nothing, he gave Alec a sad smile and disappeared into his apothecary to finish the potion quickly so he could get back to his husband.

Alec walked into his and Magnus’s bedroom slowly, feeling as if he had weights attached to the soles of his shoes. He kicked them off when he reached their bed, and collapsed onto the covers without taking off any of his gear. 

The muted sounds of sirens outside were still loud enough to make Alec wince, and he drew the curtains shut to block out the light that filtered into the room. His head found his hands, and he tugged on a few strands of his jet-black hair until it was almost painful.

Inside his mind, he berated himself for being so ridiculous. Nothing had even really gone particularly wrong that day. The Clave had been trying, but weren’t they always? His Shadowhunters seemed to need even more from him than usual, but that wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. By all logic and reason, Alec had no excuse to feel this way, but he still clawed at his hair in the hopes that it would bring him some semblance of control. 

The world was quiet, for the most part, which Alec was grateful for. But he soon found that, even without the added sensory overload, he was still approaching the edge of a meltdown. He grew even more frustrated with himself and tugged harder, relishing in the spark of pain that jolted up his spine. 

It still wasn’t enough.

Alec tried to remember to breathe, like Izzy had taught him when they were younger and small changes in his routine would cause him to spiral. He was hit with the startling realisation that he _couldn’t_ breathe. He began to panic and backed up against the headboard, the pressure of the wood on his spine solid and comforting. His breath came in short gasps and his lungs burned with the effort of trying to get air into his body. 

Alec released his hair from the death grip he had on it and began to crash his fists into his thighs rhythmically. The dull ache in his legs helped him to focus, focus on breathing and stopping his panic attack before he passed out. He began to count each hit, and tried to focus on the numbers, on the repetitive pattern that he was mumbling to himself.

Alec was vaguely aware of the sound of Magnus’s boots on the hardwood floor, and his breathing picked up again. It had been a long time since he’d had a full-blown meltdown in front of Magnus, and he didn’t want his husband to see him like this. 

Magnus heard the counting before he even reached the bedroom and knew Alec must be trying to calm himself down. He hurried inside and perched on the edge of the bed, far enough away so as not to overwhelm Alec but close enough to reach out if he needed to. 

“Alexander,” he said clearly, firmly. Alec looked up and met his eyes, though only for a moment before his gaze skittered away again, raking over the plain white walls of their bedroom. Magnus, accustomed to Alec’s reluctance to make eye contact even at the best of times, didn’t mind. 

“Alexander, I need you to stop hitting yourself,” Magnus said, gesturing to Alec’s thighs, where he was still punching himself repeatedly. 

Alec nodded to show he understood and stilled his hands. He was unable to stop himself from clenching them into fists, however, and he looked up at Magnus a little desperately.

Magnus understood immediately, and he said, “Go ahead. There’s nothing wrong with stimming, Alexander.”

Alec began to rock back and forth rapidly, his hands relaxing from their tensed position. 

“Count with me,” Magnus said softly, and he began to count to four, making sure to use the same tone and inflection with each word. 

It took a few seconds for Alec to register the words and begin to keep pace with Magnus, but eventually he began counting with him, mumbling the numbers over and over to himself in the same pattern that Magnus had set. 

As Alec began to calm down, Magnus ached to touch him, _hold_ him, but he refrained, not wanting to cause his husband any more distress. When Alec’s breathing had returned to normal and the wild, fearful look had left his eyes, Magnus laid his hand in front of Alec, palm up - an open invitation. 

Alec grabbed his hand, running his fingers over the multitude of rings Magnus wore. Magnus smiled to himself, happy to see his husband giving in to the desire to explore the cool, solid textures when he needed it the most.

They stayed in silence for a few more minutes as Alec played with Magnus’s rings, still counting to himself even after Magnus had stopped. Finally, the numbers died in his throat, and Alec’s hand went limp in Magnus’s, his rocking coming to a jerky halt. His cheeks flared red with embarrassment, and he mumbled, “I’m sorry,” to his husband without meeting his eyes. 

“You have nothing to apologise for, Alexander,” Magnus said firmly. 

“You shouldn’t have had to see that,” Alec stated miserably.

“Alexander, there is not a moment in our lives during which I wouldn’t want to be here to help you when you’re having a hard time,” Magnus replied. “There is nothing wrong with getting overwhelmed sometimes. This is part of who you are, and I fell in love with _all_ of you, including your meltdowns and bad days.” He emphasized his statement with a light squeeze of Alec’s hand, which was still intertwined with his own.

Alec’s throat closed with emotion, and he blinked away the tears that threatened to rise to his eyes. “T-Thank you,” he stumbled over the words. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Magnus smiled and said, “Of course, Alexander.” He hesitated, and then asked: “What colour are you right now?”

“Yellow,” Alec said softly. 

Magnus slid fractionally closer to him and said, “Is it okay if I run my fingers through your hair?”

Alec nodded wordlessly. 

Magnus reached his free hand up to thread his fingers through Alec’s obsidian locks. “We do need to talk about this, Alexander,” he stated firmly after a few minutes had passed. “Whenever you’re ready, of course. If you don’t want to have the conversation right now, we don’t have to.”

Alec looked up at Magnus, confused. “What conversation?”

Magnus smiled patiently and said, “The conversation about you. You shouldn’t have to feel like you can’t stim in your own home.”

Alec bit his lip and looked away. “I know. It’s not you, Magnus. It-It’s just ingrained, you know?” He gestured vaguely, trying to convey what he meant.

Magnus nodded in understanding. “I do know. I can imagine Shadowhunter society isn’t too accepting of anyone a little different than their perceived ‘normal’.”

Alec scoffed. “That’s putting it mildly.” He took a deep breath and focused his gaze on the picture frame hanging on the wall above Magnus’s head. “When I was a kid, my parents wanted me to be the best. The best fighter, the best diplomat, the best _everything_. I wasn’t allowed to stim. I wasn’t allowed to have meltdowns. I wasn’t allowed to be _me_.” Alec paused and took a breath. His mind was flooded with images from his childhood, images of himself, flapping his hands in excitement while he talked to Izzy. Izzy, to her benefit, would smile and listen to him, never once speaking a word of his unorthodox behaviour. He saw his mother reprimanding him sharply for the action seconds later. He saw his father shouting at him to look at him, to face him like a real man. Finally, he saw his mother again, locking him in his room without dinner for rocking back and forth while he read in the library. 

Tears rose to his eyes once more and this time he couldn’t stop them from rolling down his cheeks. 

Magnus made a noise of sympathy and abandoned Alec’s hand in favour of wiping the tears away with the pad of his thumb. His eyes were filled with sadness, and Alec had to look away from them after a few seconds, the guilt too much for him to bear. 

“I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you,” Alec mumbled. “It’s my messed up past. You shouldn’t have to be subjected to hearing about it.”

“Alexander,” Magnus said firmly. “I _want_ to hear about it. Whatever you are willing to tell me, I want to hear.” He repeated one of the vows from their wedding: “When you speak, I will listen.”

“I know,” Alec said, smiling at Magnus. “Thank you. It’s just - I, uh, I’m not sure what to say.” He sighed and made a decision. It had been a long, trying day, and rehashing the trauma of his childhood wasn’t going to help him at the moment. “If it’s okay, can we actually talk about this later? I-I need to get my thoughts straight.” He winced at his choice of words and said, “If that makes sense.” He felt tired and drained from his earlier meltdown, and navigating the confusing world of emotions seemed like an overwhelming, herculean task.

Magnus nodded. “It makes perfect sense.” He glanced over at the clock on the bedside table and said, “Why don’t you sleep on it? We can talk tomorrow, or whenever you prefer, as long as we don’t put it off _too_ long. You look exhausted, and I could do with some beauty rest myself.”

Alec let out a sigh of relief, the last of the tension leaving his body at Magnus’s words. “That sounds great.”

Magnus smiled and, with a flick of his wrist, turned off all of the lights and changed himself and Alec into suitable sleepwear. Alec maneuvered himself under the covers, and Magnus scooted over to his side of the bed. He hesitated for a second and then asked, “What colour are you right now?”

Alec smiled. “Green, Magnus.” Magnus needed no further invitation; he moved into Alec’s space with the ease of many nights of practice and wound his arms around Alec’s back, holding him close to his chest. 

“I love you,” Alec whispered into Magnus’s hair.

“I love you, too, Alexander.”

The last thing that crossed Alec’s mind before Magnus’s rhythmic heartbeat lulled him to sleep was that maybe the part of himself he had always been forced to keep locked up was ready to come out, fully. Maybe Magnus was the one who would see him, love him, and accept him for exactly who he was.

**Author's Note:**

> [Stalk me on Tumblr](http://moonlight-breeze-44.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Prompts are open!
> 
> Want to embrace your inner chaotic fandom participant? Require somewhere to scream about Shadowhunters and other fandoms? Need writing advice, encouragement, or new friends? [Join our Discord server](https://discord.gg/82pvdE39fD) and find your place in a community of fandom-ers livin' it up! We welcome everyone, and we would love to have you. <3
> 
>  **NOTE** : I am open to writing a sequel to this detailing Magnus and Alec's talk about Alec's childhood trauma, if that's something you guys would want to read. If you want me to make a sequel, comment below and let me know!
> 
> I'll see you soon! <3
> 
> ~ Em


End file.
